


At First

by Insomiak



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-08 20:44:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10395705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insomiak/pseuds/Insomiak
Summary: There’s no fire, but the smoke rolling up from the rice maker is flourishing and black, slowly engulfing the small kitchen.  Kurapika stands up and staggers, mind still foggy from sleep, and where should he go?  To the bathroom to get water?  Call the fire department?  Smother it?





	

**Author's Note:**

> This ship won't let me go....... I'm updating Sanhitori City, just you WAIT. ((my computer died and took the last 1000 words with it, but give me a few weeks. I would've updated it this weekend otherwise)).
> 
> This was written based on a prompt. Hope you like it :)

   At first, Kurapika had thought working for the Vendeen family in Yorkshin City was going to be a dangerous, taxing job, given that they’re an upper-ring mafia family and he is, after three years as a professional Hunter, expensive to hire.  Unexpectedly, though, it’s been comparatively easy and definitely more pleasant work, mostly guarding their villa or manor at nights or moving ‘unidentified materials’ to an ‘unspecified location’ for reasons ‘not given.’  The legalities are shaky, but they’re not a malicious family, and so Kurapika feels good working for them.  The fact that it’s an easy job has him a little restless, however.  

   They’d even given him his own apartment to sleep at on the evenings his services were not required, which was - again unexpectedly - nearly once a week.  A vacation day weekly is not something Kurapika finds himself growing accustomed to, and generally spends his ‘off days’ looking for any leads on the eyes.  

   This night, however, he’s exhausted from a break-in at the Vendeen manor, though dispersing the intruders had been easy enough - why do low level criminals even bother? - and so Kurapika is in bed by eight pm, head spinning and feet aching from working long hours.  ‘Easy’ doesn’t mean the work isn’t tiring.  He should probably take a bath to loosen his muscles, or even have a drink to relax, but somehow he always ends up curled in his bed in pain and with too much on his mind.  _Why can’t he find any leads towards his people’s eyes?_ is mostly what he worries about, but also a little guilt for not contacting anyone in nearly a full year.

   Okay, a lot of guilt.

   It’s for their own safety, though.  They have to know that.

   As if it’s some kind of oracle hinting at something Kurapika would rather ignore, his phone buzzes and the screen lights up.  He knows he’ll regret it as soon as he does, because he knows who’s texting him this time of night close to the end of the week, but he checks anyway.  Maybe his guilt is partially just loneliness.  Maybe he’s too tired to fight.

_Eat dinner._

   That’s all it says.  That’s pretty much all he ever says now, short commands that are indicative of something far sweeter that Kurapika returns just as surely but does not know how to unfold in his own heart as easily as Leorio seems to.  

   Kurapika doesn’t text him back.  He never does.  He’s not sure if Leorio knows he’s read every text, but how could he?  If he ever replied, someone could track the signal to Leorio’s location and know they’re connected, then find out everything about Kurapika and use Leorio against him and it would work, so, how can he text back?  He will, someday, when it’s safe.

   It’s safe now.  Isn’t it?  The Vendeen family aren’t connected to the eyes, anyway.

   “No,” he whispers into the pillow, like he’s reprimanding himself for the idea.  Kurapika fists the sheets under him and shoves the guilt and longing far down inside himself until he can’t feel it.  Until for all intents and purposes it doesn’t exist.  He does not care.

   Three beats later, he’s dragging himself out of bed to go make dinner.

   Even though Kurapika has been on his own for years now, he’s never quite gotten the hang of cooking.  Normally the family who hires him has a cook and he gets by with that, or else he’s traveling and buys his meals.  He’s never nested before, not since he was a child, and so his culinary skills had never developed.  But surely he can cook himself something easy.  There’s rice, he can make rice, right?  How hard can it be?

    Kurapika rubs his right eye as he pours an arbitrary amount of rice into the rice maker, and then adds just enough water to more or less equal the amount of rice.  That’s right, isn’t it?  Should he look it up online…?  Somehow that seems below him, or maybe he’s too exhausted to think logically, and so Kurapika doesn’t.  There are twenty-three different settings on the rice maker and he sets it to the one he thinks fits the situation best, and sits down on a wooden chair in the kitchen, to wait out the fifteen minutes the timer is ticking down.  Easy enough.

   He’s staring at his bare legs and wondering if his night attire isn’t too feminine and stiffens quickly after the thought.  He honestly couldn’t care about _that_ \- why had it even crossed his mind? - not because of Leorio? - whatever the med student might think about Kurapika’s expressions and clothing doesn’t matter to him - does it?  And then he starts to doze off, blond hair a mess and hanging across his cheeks.

   He’s nearly completely asleep when he smells the smoke.  At first his semi-unconscious brain assumes it’s steam from the rice, but then, roaringly, the fire alarm starts to pound and he snaps awake, eyes flashing red in defence before he’s totally aware.  

   There’s no fire, but the smoke rolling up from the rice maker is flourishing and black, slowly engulfing the small kitchen.  Kurapika stands up and staggers, mind still foggy from sleep, and where should he go?  To the bathroom to get water?  Call the fire department?  Smother it?  

   Kurapika shakes his head and unplugs the machine, one hand covering his mouth and nose.  Simple enough.  What’s going on with him tonight?  He’s not normally - he’s not _ever_ this scattered.  It takes more than a long day at work and a few restless nights to rattle him into any sort of confusion, delirium, or absentmindedness.  He blinks blankly at the smoking machine, alarm still sounding bright and loud, and wonders if he might be getting _old_.  

   He looks up at the ceiling and realizes he’s too short to disarm the alarm, and goes to move a chair over, when three steady knocks pound at his door.  Grey eyes glance at the clock on the white wall, 3:02 in the morning.  What kind of idiot would come knocking this late?  Just out of the goodness of their heart?  Probably some well- _meaning_ idiot with an unfortunate hero complex who has seen Kurapika enter this apartment before and thinks him a pretty woman suddenly in distress.  At least, it’s happened before.  

   Swatting smoke away from his face, he sighs.  He pulls the door open and readies himself to cooly request his visitor to leave, but he finds himself looking into previously aquatinted brown eyes and they switch from honest concern to blatant disbelief in a matter of seconds.

   “Kurapika?!”

   The older man is in his sweatpants.  Doesn’t he have the decency to at least put a shirt on?  Decency has never connotated with Leorio, who is Kurapika kidding.  “Good evening,” he says, barely heard over the alarm.  It continues to ring deafeningly over their words.

   Leorio glares at him.  “Don’t just say ‘good evening’ all normal like that!  How can you be staying across the hall from me without me knowing?  Do you even realize what a shitty friend you are?”  

   “How was I supposed to know you were here?”

   “Oh, I don’t know, maybe if you fucking picked up your phone?”

   Kurapika rubs his left temple.  “Look, can you-”

   “Are you okay?”

   “Yes, I just burnt some rice.  Can you-”

   “What!??” Leorio shouts over the alarm, unable to hear.

   Kurapika rubs both of his temples.  “Can you come in and-” He points to the ceiling, wishing he could keep his expression placid but he’s too tired, too bewildered by the other’s presence, and Leorio usually sees through him anyway.

   The taller man reaches the ceiling easily and takes the battery out, covering the room in sudden silence that buzzes in Kurapika’s ears.  He sets the cover for the alarm on the counter with the batteries and folds his arms, looking sternly at Kurapika.

   “Yes?” The blond says, grinding his teeth together.  This is the absolute last thing he needs.  To be looked down on.  Because he can’t cook, had mixed up something as simple as rice, because he’s wearing pink shorts to bed, does’t care about gendered clothing or whatever, because he never calls back, because he’s not very good at keeping in touch - because he’s doing so many things wrong in all aspects of his life that are not about the eyes, and Leorio is sure to point them out.  

   The taller man has a small smile spreading over his face, warm and bright.  His shoulders relax.  Slowly, he takes a step towards Kurapika, somehow shy though his voice is even, warm.  “Well… how are you?”

_How am I?_

   “Uh.”  Kurapika blinks at him.  “Fine.”  

   “Did you eat anything yet?”

   Oh.

   Kurapika has it wrong, doesn’t he?  He must really be overtired, or just spent too long in a world wherein to trust someone, to look for support, is to find death.  How could he have thought Leorio would judge him?  He never looks down on Kurapika.  Not really.  He’s never cared about his clothes, skirts or Kuruta or whatever.  Leorio only ever worries about him, which makes Kurapika feel something worse than guilty, accountable and problematic and manipulative, though he doesn’t mean to be.  It is only that this is complicated.

   “I haven’t,” Kurapika says, and goes across the room to open the windows.  “May I sleep at your place for the night?”  He asks, trying to make it less complicated.  Trying to sound calm, interested.  Leorio stiffens.  Right, he probably… “You have someone over.”  

   “No.”  

   Kurapika raises a blond eyebrow.  “Okay.”

   Leorio looks away. 

   Kurapika decides he’s not the only one making things complicated.  “It’s fine if you do.  You can do what you like.”

   “I don’t.”

   “Okay.”

   “Kurapika-“

   “What?”

   Leorio clamps up for a moment, words building behind his lips so obviously Kurapika finds himself emerged in the strong desire to punch him in the mouth.  _What do you want to say?_   He holds back, waiting for Leorio, allowing him any time he needs.  If Kurapika is good at any part of this thing between them, it’s waiting for this big idiot to catch up.

   “Lately… I mean,” Leorio clears his throat and leans against the counter.  There’s smoke still and the room is getting cool with the windows open.  “After the last time, there’s been no point in anyone else.  I just see you, but then, they’re never you.  It’s a real piss off.  All these sexy women and you’re the only - you’re…”  His sour expressions falls into a humble blush and Leorio folds his arms, closing his eyes, fruitlessly trying to dissipate it.  Kurapika finds his knees a little weak and also tries to dissipate that.

   “You’re being awfully open.  And cheesy.”

   “Pretty sure you’re not really here and I’m dreaming.”

   “I see,” Kurapika says, hugging himself against the wind wafting into the apartment.  Does Leorio dream about him?  Should he reply honestly to that?  _God, just five minutes with him and I am already reduced to the hopeless thoughts of a love-struck teenager._

   “I was planning on telling you the next time we met, but I didn’t think you’d be across the freaking hall.”

   “My sincerest apologies.”

   Leorio swings his head to glare at Kurapika.  “Did you even understand what I ju-”

   “Yes.”  He turns to face the taller man, pride swelling in his chest quickly and Kurapika knows if he doesn’t say this fast he won’t be able to, will be too indignant.  “I already asked you once.  I’m not saying it again.”

   “Saying…?”

   Kurapika rolls his eyes.  “This apartment if full of smoke, and I am leaving.”  He promptly marches across the hall and into what he assumes - by the open door - is Leorio’s place, not bothering to take anything with him or check that the older man is following. 

   He hears his big awkward footsteps a moment later, tripping into his flat and closing the door behind him; and somehow Kurapika only finds this _endearing_ and _sweet_.  Wonders how Leorio can take him from revenge-seeking to warm-hearted and loving with just an action.  One not even directed at Kurapika.  How…

   “You’re really staying over?”

   The blond is about to reply sarcastically, but bites it back.  He wants this.  He does, and he knows that he needs to open himself up, to stop being guarded, to uncomplicate everything because there is no way of knowing how long they’ll both be here, or when they’ll see each other next, and if Kurapika gives himself long enough to think he’ll start recalling all the reasons why he severes ties with his friends while he’s working and he’d instead really really _really_ like to just kiss Leorio.  

   So he walks towards the med-student, pushes until he’s backed against the door.  Kurapika grabs his bigger hand and squeezes for all the days they spend apart, lets the warmth from it run down his arms, presses in just to hear Leorio gasp.  He takes a long, slow breath and closes his eyes softly.

   Kurapika opens them and says, “For me there has only been you.  I’m sorry I never answer your messages.  I read them.”

   “Woah.”  Leorio searches his eyes like he’s looking for a trick, the catch to this.  “I really am dreaming.”

   “You’re not,” Kurapika says, smiling.  “I’ve had a long day and you are…” he stops, pulling himself up to reach Leorio’s lips, warm air between their mouths, just on his toes, heart fluttering when Leorio curls a hand around his lower back to help lift him up more and more… “exactly what I need.”


End file.
